


The Best Men

by grimmypuff



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Sarcastic Stiles, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-26 13:30:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12558420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmypuff/pseuds/grimmypuff
Summary: Planning a wedding? Not really something Stiles ever wanted to do, thanks. But when best bro duty calls, you answer. Luckily, another best bro has been called up as well. Enter Derek Hale.





	The Best Men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [honeymoonmuke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymoonmuke/gifts).



“Dude,” came Scott’s voice from Stiles’ phone as he checked his voicemail, “Isaac wants me to remind you that you’re supposed to meet up with Derek tomorrow for coffee at ten.”

Stiles groaned as he heard Isaac’s voice in the background. “Tell him not to be late! Derek’s time is very valuable!”

“Anyway, thanks again, man. You’re the best.” Stiles heard Scott laughing at something Isaac said as he ended the call, and he couldn’t help but grin. His best friend was getting married to a guy who made him laugh. What more could Stiles want for him?

Now true, he wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up in charge of planning the wedding along with Isaac’s best friend, Derek, but he’d do anything for Scott. Apparently this was put up or shut up time. Derek seemed like a decent guy, they'd all been out to dinner and drinks a few times, and Stiles had enjoyed his company. As an added bonus, he was easy on the eyes, so spending time with him wouldn’t be a hardship.

Since Stiles was Stiles, of course he was running late in the morning, and _of course_ it happened to be raining, so he caught an Uber to the coffee shop instead of walking the eight blocks as he normally would. Luck wasn't on his side, though, and an oncoming truck splashed a puddle of water up onto him as he exited the car.

"Stiles?" Derek called from where he'd been waiting on the sidewalk. "You certainly know how to make a dramatic entrance." He smiled sympathetically as water dripped off Stiles in rivulets. "It's good to see you again."

"Nice to know my efforts are appreciated. And you too, man," Stiles answered, wringing himself out like a wet dog. "Been here long?"

Derek shook his head as he opened the door for them. "No, I just got here myself. It took a bit longer to find a parking space this morning."

Nodding as he peeled off his wet jacket, Stiles said, "Yeah, the rain'll do that." He felt like a drowned rat, and he was a bit disgruntled that Derek looked perfectly put together without an umbrella in sight.

The Coffee Shop was a favorite among both Scott and Isaac and their friends, having actually been the place where they'd met. Aside from the completely unimaginative name, everything else about the place was straight out of one of Stiles' best coffee-related dreams. It was usually busy, but never overcrowded, and the pleasant color scheme of sun-faded primary colors never failed to make Stiles smile. It was always warm and cozy on cold days, and provided just the right amount of an arctic blast coming from the AC when the weather was hot. The simple decor of overstuffed chairs and couches, as well as the occasional grouping of tables, seemed to say, 'sit down, enjoy your coffee, everything else will wait'.

Stiles had his eye on the table directly in front of the fireplace, and he gave his order for coffee quickly before looking back at it, already imagining the warmth he'd feel from it. Still struggling to get his wallet out of his damp khakis, he looked up to see that Derek had already placed his order and paid for both their coffees and was making his way over towards the table Stiles had been staring at.

Derek took off his coat and hung it over the back of a chair, and proceeded to roll up the sleeves of his shirt all the while Stiles was trying to kick his brain into gear and do something other than stare at the dark hair on Derek's muscular forearms. "Thanks for the coffee," he finally said. "We might still be waiting for me to find my wallet if you hadn't paid."

"You're welcome," Derek said. "Mornings aren't your thing?"

"Not especially, but I'm not normally this bad either." He leaned closer to the fireplace, sighing as he felt himself getting warmer. "I ran out of coffee at home, and it takes me a cup or two before I'm fit for company."

"Well, I appreciate you agreeing to meet me on a Saturday." The corners of his eyes wrinkled a bit when he smiled. "There's something on your cup," Derek said, gesturing to it.

Stiles looked down at his paper cup, and turned it in his hands. " _If you ever break up with your boyfriend, give me a call - Sean_ ," Stiles said, not reading the number outloud. Normally not one to blush, Stiles could feel his face getting hot. "We obviously got each other's cups," he said.

"I don't think so," Derek said, rotating his so that Stiles could see ' _Derek, you have really good taste_ ,' written in the barista's hurried scrawl.

"I guess the waterlogged look is a good one for me.”

Grinning at Stiles from across the table, Derek asked, "So are you going to dump me for Sean?"

Stiles scoffed. "And throw away our love? _Never_."

"So you're loyal. Happy to hear that. My last relationship ended in disaster, so it's reassuring to know when I'm ready for love again that you're a good candidate," he said with a wink.

The wink should have been over the top and cheesy, and it was, but it made Stiles laugh which was probably the intended effect.

With a glance towards his tablet, Derek said, "I guess we should probably get started. This wedding won't plan itself."

Oh, how Stiles wished it would, but he nodded agreeably anyway.

"So, the colors Isaac and Scott chose are black and gold," Derek said, already tapping away on his tablet. "You got the document I sent you, right?"

"Black and gold?" He tried to picture it in his mind and couldn't. "Scott agreed to black and gold?" he asked, mostly to just buy himself some time. He needed to drink at least half his coffee before being even close to dealing with this.

Derek looked up from his tablet. "Truthfully? The overall impression I get from Scott is that he doesn't really care what happens at the wedding, as long as he leaves it married."

Bringing up the document on his phone that Derek had mentioned sending to him, Stiles opened and closed his mouth several times, not sure how to express his shock without being offensive. "You've spent a lot of time on this," he eventually said, after running through and rejecting his first five attempts.

"Well, sure," Derek said. "It's not every day your best friend gets married, and asks you to plan it."

"In all fairness, I think I should tell you that I have zero experience with this kind of thing." And no interest, but Stiles was getting better at knowing when to keep his mouth shut. "So I'm not sure exactly what I bring to the table, but Scott asked, so all I know is we've got to give them the best damn wedding, ever."

With as satisfied grin, Derek said, "Spoken like a best friend. Hopefully we can pull this off. You know Scott's tastes, I know Isaac's. Scott seems laid back, and Isaac's preferences are a bit more-"

"Pretentious?" Stiles interjected, thinking of Isaac's proclivity for wearing scarves. And what was he just thinking about saying the second thing to pop into his head? He was going to blame it on Derek's general gorgeousness making it more difficult than usual to concentrate.

"I was going to say fussy, but I suppose pretentious fits just as well." Derek scratched at his eyebrow with his thumbnail and said, "I need your opinion on what Scott likes. While Isaac wants things a certain way, yes, he doesn't want Scott to be unhappy either."

Stiles wondered if Isaac and Derek knew that Scott would be happy getting married in his mother's back yard. "Okay, then. I can do this." He looked again at the document on his phone. "So the colors are black and gold. That sounds nice," he offered.

Nodding, Derek said, "Since it's a night wedding, it works. All the men will be in black tuxedos, of course, and my sister, Cora, and her girlfriend, Lydia, are in charge of finding dresses for the women in the wedding party, so luckily, that's one less thing we need to worry about."

"Okay," Stiles agreed. "So tuxes. That should be easy enough then, right?"

"Well, after we decide what fit, what lapel, and what shade of black, sure. The rest will be easy enough," Derek said, tapping at his tablet yet again.

Laughing, Stiles said, "Different shades of black? Ha! You nearly had me going there for a second."

Derek looked up, his brows furrowed. "I'm not joking." He stood up and took the seat on the same side of the table as Stiles and showed him his tablet. "See? There's a soft black, midnight black, bright black… There are quite a few to choose from. And then we have all the different fabric choices."

Stiles could feel his eyes glazing over, and he reached for his coffee, deciding he'd deal with Derek and his talking when, and only when, he reached the bottom of his coffee cup. Too soon, he arrived there, and with an air of one going to the gallows, he looked at Derek, who was still sitting next to him. "These shades of black?" He contemplated crying. God, why was he even here having this conversation? He was a fraud. A wedding planner fraud dressed in khakis and a soaking wet t-shirt. "They all look the same to me."

"We'll go see them in person, don't worry, I'll book us an appointment," he said, closing the browser window. "First thing to do, anyway, is decide on a venue. I've narrowed it down to two places. There's The Wheelhouse, which is old and rustic. It used to be a grist mill, apparently, and could serve as a great counterpoint to the glamour of the gold and black theme. Or there's Le Jardin, which is known for their beautiful flowers and gardens, and I've heard their catering is over the top."

His eyes wide, Stiles' heart was rabbiting as he looked at the prices next to the respective venues. "Please tell me there's an extra zero at the end. You can't be serious. Are you serious? They don't seriously charge this much, do they? How long will the wedding be lasting? Are these the prices for multiple days? Do actual cherubs attend the wedding and drop rose petals and play gold harps?"

Laughing, Derek said, "No, these are the correct prices. I know it seems… steep, but you're paying for the ambiance. Everyone wants their wedding to be memorable."

"Memorable? It'll be pretty damn memorable when they're paying it off the first ten years of their marriage!" Stiles rubbed his hands over his face. "Is Isaac like, secretly wealthy? Because Scott's a vet, dude, and he just started his own practice. I really don't think he can afford this kind of wedding."

"It's okay," Derek said, nudging Stiles' shoulder with his own as he smiled at him reassuringly. "Isaac's father is paying for it. He was a complete ass for a large part of Isaac's life, and now he's trying to bend over backwards to repair things. He offered, and told Isaac he wouldn't take no for an answer."

"That's a sweet deal, then," he said. "Although, I was at an anniversary party at Le Jardin a few months ago, and I can tell you right now that won't work." Stiles motioned to where he had the planning document open on this phone. "Scott has horrible allergies that trigger his asthma. Having his wedding at a place that literally means 'the garden' would only ensure he spent his wedding night in the ER."

Derek tapped at his tablet again before looking up. "There's one decision made. I'll call later and see what their available dates are and how they match up with the ones Scott and Isaac chose. I'll try to schedule a tour on the same day we hit the tux shop."

Having finished his coffee, Stiles was antsy to get on with his day. His day that consisted of going back to his place and putting on his pajamas and eating leftover take out, and maybe some gaming with Scott if he was free. Big plans. "That’ll work. Text me when you know what day, and I'll make sure I'm available."

***

"Hey, so how was coffee with Derek?" Scott asked later when they were playing Call of Duty. "I know wedding planning isn't really your thing."

Stiles laughed as he thought back on his morning. "Dude, if I didn't love you, there's no way I'd be spending my Saturday morning talking about tuxes in different shades of black and flowers and shit. So in case you've ever doubted my love? Don't."

Scott paused the game to work on another slice of pizza. "Thanks, man. This is really above and beyond. You know if the planning were left to me, Isaac would leave me on my wedding day."

"Stop that," Stiles said, kicking a sock-covered foot against Scott's ankle. "He loves you. He'd marry you in a barn."

Smiling goofily, Scott said, "Yeah, he would, wouldn't he?"

"Pretty sure of that," Stiles said. "You don't have to worry about anything. Derek practically has it all planned already, and it's going to be awesome."

"What'd you think of Derek?"

"What do you mean, what do I think of Derek? We've met before. You know this, you were there. He seems like a great guy. What's his deal, anyway?"

Scott cocked his head to the side. "With what?"

Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, Stiles said, "The fact that he's hot like burning, but single. That deal."

"I don't know. Isaac mentioned his last relationship just put him off dating for a while." Scott waggled his eyebrows and asked, "Why? Are you looking to change that for him?"

"I wouldn't be adverse to it at all." His face got a bit silly as he thought about it. "Would I love to lick his stubble? No doubt. Would I ever get the chance?" Stiles snorted. "There's out of my league, and then there's like, people on a different plane of existence. Derek, unfortunately, is one of those."

"You're ridiculous."

Stiles slumped down into his seat and sighed. "Yeah. It's a well-known fact."

***

Derek had offered to drive for the next round of wedding planning, since they were going to be making multiple stops. Having lost track of time in the shower, Stiles was still getting dressed when he heard the doorbell, and then a moment later, insistent knocking on the door. "I'm coming, keep your pants on!" he hollered, zipping up his.

He pulled a t-shirt on over his still-damp skin, and made his way to the door with a scowl on his face. His scowl stood no chance when he saw what waited for him on the other side of the door — Derek, wearing black glasses and a soft-looking sweater, holding two cups of coffee and a bag of what Stiles hoped to be baked goods. “Hey,” he said, pulling the door open and gesturing for Derek to come in. “I’m sorry I’m running late. I was told you're super punctual and ‘your time is very valuable.’”

"That last part sounded like it had air quotes," Derek said, stepping inside and nudging the door shut behind him with his hip. "I recognize Isaac all over that. He can be a bit… high strung." He handed Stiles a coffee and the paper bag. "Consider this apology food."

"You speak my favorite language," Stiles said, digging into the bag as he led them into the kitchen. "Are these apple fritters from that place over by the museum?" At Derek's amused nod, Stiles said, "I think we're going to be really good friends."

Humming to himself happily as he ate his fritters, Stiles had to admit life was treating him pretty well. Great food, and an even better view. No matter if Derek was unattainable or not, he was still beautiful, and Stiles appreciated that. And the fact that he'd _—_ unprompted, mind you _—_ brought the best fritters in the county straight to his doorstep?

"Do you do that often?" Derek asked, his face a bit pinched, like he was trying to hold back laughter.

"What's that?" Stiles asked, worried for a moment he'd been broadcasting his thoughts out loud.

"Hum while eating?" Derek clarified. "I agree these fritters are delicious, but I didn't know they were like, soundtrack worthy."

Stiles smiled at his half-eaten fritter like some people only smiled at their newborn offspring. "You've gotta appreciate the little things, man."

"If you say so. Only, I don't have room for this last one," Derek said, his eyes a bit wide at having witnessed Stiles demolish his food. "I'll leave this here for you since you enjoyed them so much."

It almost hurt to bend over to tie his shoes, but there was no room for regret in his life where baked goods were concerned. "Thanks, man. Although I don't think I'll have to eat again until tomorrow." Standing up slowly, he asked, "Where are we off to first?"

"They're expecting us at the venue at eleven, and after that, it's off to see about the tuxes."

"Sounds like there's much fun to be had," Stiles said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "If it looks like I'm getting too excited, feel free to rein me in."

Derek didn't respond verbally, only raised his eyebrows as he waited for Stiles to lock his door. "So if the rapture of the different gazebos and flower packages get too much for you, I can take whatever means necessary to calm you down?"

Grinning, Stiles imagined a few scenarios, liking each one more than the one before, before remembering he should probably give a cleaner, more socially acceptable answer. "Sure thing. I mean, I hope you'd stop short of like, inflicting bodily harm, but yeah, do your worst—and holy shit, this is your car?" Stiles said, pausing in front of the sleek black Camaro parked behind his trusty old Jeep.

"No, I thought I'd start our day by demonstrating how to break into and hotwire a car," he said drily as he unlocked the doors with the remote.

"Yeah?" Stiles asked, unable to stop himself. "Tell me more."

"After we've led the police on a high-speed chase and are being photographed and fingerprinted, I'll kindly inform them we've still got a wedding to plan, and I'm sure they'll let us go," Derek finished. Turning to look at Stiles, his hand paused on the key in the ignition, he said, "Or we could just stick to the schedule and avoid a life of crime."

Stiles let out an affected sigh. "Fine. No crime today. That's probably for the best, my dad's the sheriff, and I'm not allowed to do anything stupid for another few years yet." At Derek's questioning glance, Stiles continued, "A senior prank gone wrong. No one was hurt, but you know, property damage and all that. How were we supposed to know that much Jello would be bad?"

Putting the car in gear, Derek pulled away from the curb, a grin on his face. "I get the feeling you were a handful as a child." Sparing a sideways glance towards Stiles, he said, "I'm thinking you probably still are."

"Hey now," Stiles sputtered. Like he hadn't been hearing that his whole life. "I'll have you know I'm a responsible member of society. I have a job, I vote, pay my taxes... I recycle."

"Saving the world, one bottle at a time?"

"Something like that."

"I recycle, too," Derek said.

Stiles snorted as he drummed on his knees along with the music coming out of the speakers. Of course Derek recycled. He probably volunteered on weekends, too, playing Bingo at the senior center. "I'm happy to hear that. It's one of the qualifications I have for future friends."

"What are some of the other requirements?" Derek asked. "Do you have a list?"

"They're mostly related to food and entertainment choices," Stiles said. "But it's an exhaustive list." In all honestly, all it required was eating copious amounts of take out and letting Stiles have veto power when watching anything on Netflix, but he didn't want to scare Derek off.

"Is there an application to fill out?" Derek asked. "Because I try not to do paperwork on the weekends."

"You have to be committed, Derek," Stiles said. "How else do I know you're really invested in this relationship?"

"This might be the most absurd conversation I've had all week, which is saying a lot, as I mediated a dispute between a clown union and its red nose supplier, true fact."

Throwing his arms up, and nearly managing to smack Derek upside the head in the process, Stiles said, "Hey, buddy, you're the one who asked."

Derek made a noise of agreement. "You're completely right. We'll have to approach this topic some other time, preferably when I'm not driving."

"It'll be safer for you that way," Stiles agreed.

Derek turned off the main road and drove up a winding drive parallel to a briskly running stream. At the end of the drive, nestled amongst a grove of trees, sat a quaint weathered wooden building with ivy growing up the sides. A functioning water wheel was churning water and contributing to the cacophony of sounds made up by the bubbling brook and the birds chirping in the trees. "Wow," was all Stiles had to offer.

"It's certainly impressive," Derek agreed, as they got out of the car. "You should see it at night when it's all lit up along the water. In the back by the stream, they have a dance floor and it's phenomenal."

"Mr. Hale," an older woman dressed in professional clothing greeted. "I'm Patricia; we spoke on the phone. It's nice to finally meet you, but it sounds like you're able to give the tour on your own. Should I leave you and your partner to it?"

Opening his mouth to correct the woman, Stiles was still formulating a response when Derek shook the woman's offered hand and said, "It's nice to meet you as well, Patricia. And please, call me Derek. This is Stiles, he's the best friend of of one the grooms."

"Oh, forgive me my mistake, it's just you make a darling couple." Turning to Stiles, she said, "I'm pleased to meet you, dear."

"You too," Stiles said, with a huge grin, deciding he liked anyone who thought he contributed to one half of a 'darling couple' with someone like Derek.

The tour started off with a walk around the grounds, seeing the various outdoor areas that could facilitate a wedding ceremony, followed up by a walk through the interior, its thick-planked honey-wood floors shining in the sunlight. "It's gorgeous," Stiles said for what felt like the hundredth time. He could totally see Scott and Isaac's wedding and reception happening here. It felt peaceful and serene, and even though he'd given it absolutely no previous thought, it was exactly the feel he would want for himself.

"Once you decide to book with us," Patricia said, "if you're interested in our catering, we'll set up a tasting appointment." She led them out of the building and back to the parking area. "You're free to use your own caterers, of course, and they're welcome to use our facilities.

They said their farewells, and Stiles groaned as they got back into the car. "Catering? I forgot you're expected to feed people at a wedding. This is way more involved than I thought it would be."

"It's a process, yeah," Derek said. "But we don't have to do it all at once. If we're both in agreement over using The Wheelhouse, the venue's the biggest thing to cross of the list, so we're off to a great start."

Stiles looked over at Derek and studied his profile in silence for a moment. He could tell Derek was older, but just by a few years, five at most, and he knew he'd never been married. "How do you know so much about wedding planning?"

Derek's grin could only be described as fond, and he said, "I've got two sisters. One older, one younger. When Laura got married, it was all my mother and sisters talked about for an entire year."

"Oh wow." Stiles couldn't really imagine having a sister, much less two. It sounded overwhelming. "So you just heard all the talk and turned into Mr. Wedding Planner?"

Wryly, Derek said, "You obviously don't have sisters. I got dragged to every single appointment, fitting, and tasting there was. Laura's fiancé lived across the country at the time, so I don't know if I was just general moral support, or if I was along to offer the token male opinion."

Stiles had been shopping enough with his and Scott's friends Allison and Erica to offer a third option. "Either that or they wanted you to carry their bags. Back in high school there was a period of time around prom when I thought I'd never be able to straighten my arms again."

"There was definitely a lot of that, too." Derek pulled up alongside the curb outside of a high-end shop that obviously catered to a demographic Stiles would be the first to admit he didn't belong to. "You up for this?" he asked. "You're looking a bit like you're about to have a tooth extracted."

Stiles scratched the back of his neck before saying, "I just feel completely out of my element. I really have no opinion on colors or cuts or fabrics. My dad and I buy our suits at The Men's Wearhouse." Stiles thought the sidewalk in front of the shop probably wasn't the best place for a mini-panic attack, but then again, was there really ever a good time or place for one?

"This isn't a big deal, I promise," Derek said, squeezing Stiles' shoulder reassuringly. "We'll pick out something we both think looks good, and that'll be it."

"Cool, I can do that." Stiles took a deep breath and followed Derek into the store and was relieved to find it looked pretty much like any other boutique-type store he'd been dragged into before. And yes, here came the high-pressured salesman, right on time.

Looking like he was dressed for a funeral, a tall, imposing man in an all black three-piece suit was fast approaching with a look of intense concentration on his face. Stiles grabbed Derek's arm and said, "Is he an enforcer for the mafia or a tailor? You told someone where we'd be, right? In case we're never seen again?"

"Let's talk about your shopping PTSD later, okay?" Derek said out of the corner of his mouth. "I won't let anything bad happen to you, I promise."

"Good morning, gentlemen," the man said in a deep voice, having crossed the floor to greet them. "My name is Harvey, and this is my store. What brings you in today?"

It was obvious Stiles wouldn't be volunteering to speak anytime soon, not with the way his fingers were digging into Derek's arm. Delicately loosening Stiles' grip, Derek stepped forward and offered his hand. "My name's Derek Hale, we spoke on the phone regarding arranging tuxedos for a wedding."

The man's face blossomed into a smile, and Stiles breathed a huge sigh of relief, thinking the shop owner now looked about as threatening as a newborn kitten. He blushed slightly, knowing there was no way Derek had missed his reaction.

"Oh yes," Harvey said. "I'm glad you were able to make it in this morning." He held out his hand to Stiles and said, "Welcome to Harvey's. You must be this one's fiancé. I'm honored to be playing a small part in your wedding."

Shaking Harvey's hand, he said, "My name is Stiles. It's good to meet you, but it's not Derek and I getting married. We're the best men."

From behind Harvey's back, Derek raised an eyebrow at Stiles and pointed to himself. ' _I'm the best man,_ ' he mouthed.

"Oh my God," Stiles spluttered, trying not to laugh.

Harvey just looked on, questioningly.

"Don't mind him. It's been a long morning," Derek said quickly. "So based on what we talked about on the phone, where do you suggest we start?"

The next hour and a half was spent looking at what Stiles felt like was every single suit jacket in the store, half the suit pants, shirts, and an infinite number of ties. "Please," Stiles finally begged. "I'll wear anything, I don't care. I just want to leave this store before I turn thirty."

"Well, Derek's given his preferences," Harvey said. "Is there anything in particular you've liked? I know that Derek said the grooms aren't terribly picky over the fit, they just want everyone to be comfortable and to look good. So what could you see yourself wearing, Stiles?"

"I guess I prefer the more slim fit ones. They don't seem to be as fussy without all the extra material." He reached out to touch a pair of pants on the pile in front of them and said, "I like this fabric. I like how it feels, and the way the fabric looks… fancy? And that jacket," he said, pointing to one closeby, "I like the thinner lapel, and the two buttons."

Derek, as well as Harvey, nodded appreciatively. "Why don't you try it on?" asked Harvey. "We'll have to tailor it to get the fit right, but I'm sure I can find it in your size, just give me a minute."

Watching him head towards the back of the store, Stiles asked, "Is that really necessary? I certainly wouldn't have eaten three fritters this morning if I'd known I'd be trying on clothes." He held his abdomen like a pregnant women would cradle her baby bump. "I'm still packing a serious belly."

"Trust me when I tell you you're being completely ridiculous," Derek said, slowly looking Stiles up and down. "Because you are."

"Watch it, Hale," Stiles said, fighting a blush. "We're not to the 'you get to tell me when I'm being ridiculous' part of our relationship yet."

"I don't know, I think we crossed that line back when you were humming ' _Afternoon Delight_ ' while eating apple fritters."

"I was not."

"You actually were." Derek crossed his arms and hummed a few bars. "Ring a bell, does it?"

Stiles barked out a laugh. "Fine, I was. But I was providing mood music and entertaining myself. I'd think, being such a busy man, you'd appreciate my multi-tasking."

Rolling his eyes, Derek said, "That's what you call it?"

"And, here we are," Harvey said, returning with a pair of tuxedo pants, a shirt, and tuxedo jacket. "Give these a try."

The shop didn't have dressing rooms, per se, but a large screen in the corner of the room provided privacy. Stiles took the proffered clothes and stood behind it, easily shrugging out of his graphic tee and khakis. Slipping on the shirt, he carefully did up the row of mother of pearl buttons with his long fingers, running his hands down the front of his chest when he'd finished. "This shirt is the softest thing I've ever worn," he called out from behind the screen.

"Let's see," Derek said.

"Hold on, patience! I've just got the shirt on," Stiles replied, pulling on the pants and tucking in the shirt. "Uh. I'm not sure these fit, Harvey." He pulled up the zipper and did the button before walking out from behind the screen. "Are you sure you got my size right?" He shook out his legs a bit, trying to make himself more comfortable. "They're feeling a bit snug."

"These look just the way they're supposed to. You're probably not used to wearing things that actually fit your body properly," Harvey said. "Obviously I'd do a bit of tailoring right here," he said, plucking at the waist in back where it gaped a bit. "But you did say you liked the slim fit, and the line of the trousers fall perfectly on your frame. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Hale?"

Derek was nodding vigorously, and after a few false starts, he said, "It's a flattering fit on you, Stiles."

"Are you sure?" Stiles turned so that Derek could see the back, and looked down over his shoulder. "The butt's not too tight?"

"It's perfect actually _,_ " Derek said after clearing his throat. "Maybe try the jacket, too?"

Grabbing the tuxedo jacket, Stiles pulled it on, and buttoned the top button before putting his hands on his hips. "Do I twirl now, or is that only something you do when wearing a dress?"

"Twirl, definitely," Derek said, staring unabashedly at Stiles.

It wasn't really as if he needed any prompting, but at Derek's words, Stiles swung his arms out wide, stepped one foot in front of the other, and spun in a tight circle. "Ta da!" he sang when he was facing front again, because just what did one say after twirling like a toddler in a new dress?

"I dare say that works, Stiles," Harvey said after a low chuckle. "Are you getting used to the trousers? I know it's probably an adjustment after what you were wearing."

"Yeah, I guess I'm not used to wearing things that fit so, um, close-fitting?"

"I believe _well_ is the word you're looking for," Harvey said when Derek only coughed and pulled at his collar like it was choking him.

"I'm getting used to it," Stiles said, rocking back on his heels. "I feel fancy, and I don't even have shoes on. How is that possible?"

Harvey said, "Just you wait until you put it all together. Right, Derek?"

Staring intently, Derek said, "Stiles, you look incredible. Amazing. I think we should definitely go with this tuxedo." He slid his phone from his pocket, and said, "Let's take a picture for Scott and Isaac, and see what they think."

Stiles turned to face Derek and folded his arms and puckered his lips slightly.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, freezing in the act of taking the picture.

"It's my Blue Steel face, duh." At Derek's blank expression, Stiles said, " _Zoolander_?"

Brow furrowed, Derek said, "I have no idea what you're talking about. But make that face again, and I'll take your picture if for no other reason than to use it as blackmail in the future."

Laughing, Stiles said, "Oh, Derek. You can't blackmail people who have no shame." He posed again, and this time Derek was ready for him, Stiles changing poses every few pictures, each one sillier than the next. "God, I wish I had a hat. This outfit needs a hat. Can you even imagine?" Stiles cocked a hip and pretended to tip an imaginary hat. "I'd look good."

"You already look good, Stiles."

The sound of a throat clearing a few minutes later interrupted their laughter. "Gentlemen. It looks like my next appointment is here. I'll wait to hear from you regarding your decision. Stiles, just leave everything on the chaise lounge behind the screen and I'll take care of it," Harvey said, and with a nod to the both of them, he left to greet his next appointment.

"That's probably my cue to take this tux off. Only — did you get enough pictures?" he asked, flashing Derek a cheeky grin.

Derek looked up from thumbing through the pictures on his phone, his mouth turning up at the corners. "I suppose."

***

Stiles had just finished dinner and was looking forward to a night of gaming online with Scott when his phone buzzed with a text.

**6:05 PM - Scott: Forgot dinner with Isaac & mom. 2morrow nite?**

He'd been looking forward to hanging out with Scott, even if it was through a pair of headphones. When the phone rang shortly after he texted back that nothing better come up tomorrow night, Stiles answered the phone with, "I"m serious, bro, if you cancel again, I'll start to get a complex."

"I haven't cancelled on you even once," came Derek's voice, sounding confused.

"Dude, sorry," Stiles said. "I thought you were Scott."

"That's a relief. I didn't think we were the sort of friends who called each other 'bro.'"

In the background, Stiles heard the unmistakable sound of women laughing. "What's wrong with calling each other bro?" he asked a bit defensively.

"Absolutely nothing when it’s you and Scott," Derek answered. "But we're getting off track. Listen, my sister's here with her girlfriend, and they're insisting you come over. They want to meet you."

"Okay…" Stiles said. "Why?"

Just then there was a commotion and someone new was on the line.

"Stiles, this Cora. I don't know if Derek told you, but we're in charge of a few things for the wedding, and we want your input. Will you come over to Derek's?"

Blinking in surprise, Stiles said, "Sure? Just have him text me the address, okay?"

"Fabulous! We'll see you shortly."

Twenty minutes later, Stiles was across town, sitting on a couch in Derek's living room wedged between Cora and Lydia, who were handing him different styles of invitations. Derek sat on a chair directly across from him, his eyes bright with amusement, and biting on his lip as if trying not to laugh.

Stiles wasn't sure how to break it to Cora and Lydia that he really had no worthwhile thoughts on fonts or paper textures or colors, but he diligently gave his honest opinion on each sample wedding invitation handed his way. He nearly cried in relief when Derek said, "Cora, I'm pretty sure you've made it through the pile once already. Give him a break."

Cora smiled. "Of course, Stiles, sorry," she said, patting his knee. "It's just Derek said you picked out the tux, so we figured you had good taste."

"Uh. I don't know if it was good taste, or just picking something that wasn't super fussy," he said. "I really wasn't sure about it, but it grew on me. You liked it?"

From Stiles' other side, Lydia laughed. "Some of us more than others." Twirling a curly lock of hair around her finger, she grinned a bit impishly at him and said, "The pictures were adorable."

"Yeah, all fifty of them," Cora said, through a wave of laughter.

Derek was blushing, and he said to Cora, "Hey, that was all in the name of good wedding planning! We needed to make sure we got good shots for Isaac and Scott."

Stiles thought Derek blushing was the most endearing thing he'd seen since the YouTube video of a kitten grooming a puppy, and he wondered to himself if Derek had really taken that many pictures.

"And they love the tux," Derek continued. "Well, Isaac does, Scott didn't seem to have an opinion, he just said if Stiles okay'd it, it was fine by him."

"That's my boy," Stiles said. "Gotta love that blind trust."

Stretching, and then climbing over Stiles so that she was sitting near Lydia, Cora said, "Okay, no more wedding stuff. Let's watch a movie. Can you stay, Stiles?"

With a look to Derek to make sure it was okay, Stiles said, "Sure thing."

"Derek, why don't you and Stiles go make us all some popcorn. Lydia and I will pick out a movie."

"That sounds like a trap," Derek said, his eyes were narrow with suspicion.

Cora just laughed and said, "We'll pick something from your Netflix queue, brother."

Following Derek into the kitchen, Stiles took a look around at the white granite countertops that matched the appliances and cabinets, the only color in the kitchen being the soft yellow walls and maple wood floors. "I like your house. It's not at all what I had pictured."

"Really?" Derek asked. "What'd you think it be like?"

"I don't know," Stiles said with a shrug. "I guess I pictured a high-powered attorney like yourself living in a penthouse apartment somewhere with lots of glass and leather and stainless steel."

Derek laughed as he reached into his pantry closet to pull out some popcorn. "Ah, that'd be my older sister, Laura. You pretty much described her decorating aesthetic. Of course, she lives in Manhattan, not Beacon Hills, so it's probably more fitting."

"Yeah, I suppose there aren't many penthouses in Beacon Hills, either," Stiles said. "Zero, as a matter of fact." Derek held up the popcorn choices, indicating Stiles should choose. "Kettle corn," he said. "I'll always take the option with sugar."

"Good to know." Derek started the popcorn in the microwave, and leaned back against the counter, his arms folded across his chest. "Thanks for coming over," he said. "I know my sister and Lydia can be a lot to deal with."

It took Stiles a bit to answer as he was busy appreciating the way Derek's t-shirt was pulled tightly across his chest, and the way his sweats were hanging low on his hips. "Nah, it's fine. Scott bailed on our plans tonight, so it all worked out."

The timer on the microwave dinged, and Derek poured the popcorn out into a bowl just as Cora and Lydia walked into the kitchen, holding their purses and keys. "We've actually decided to take the party home," Lydia said. "But we put on a movie for you. Hope you like it."

Cora hugged Derek goodbye, kissing him on the cheek. "Have fun. Call me later. Nice meeting you, Stiles," she said with a wave and a smile, and she and Lydia were out the door almost before Stiles could respond.

"They're like a mini-whirlwind," Stiles observed.

"And that was them behaving," Derek said. "They're usually worse. I don't even question them anymore. I just go with it."

Stiles nodded. "It seems safer that way."

"Do you still want to watch a movie?"

"Of course. We can't let the popcorn go to waste."

"Come on then," Derek said, his words turning into a groan as they reached the living room and he saw what movie Lydia had chosen. "She has a thing for _The Notebook_ . We don't have to watch this."

Stiles eyebrows climbed high on his forehead. "Are you serious? I love this movie. It's been a while. Let's watch it. Please?" He couldn't get a read on what Derek was thinking, but Stiles did want to watch it, and he wasn't going to lie. "It's just sweet, I mean, imagine having to fight so hard to end up with your true love? Battling scheming relatives, socio-economic class systems, hurt feelings, misunderstandings? And then after that, living years and years in happiness, only to have the person who loves you most forget you? God. It gets me. Every single time."

Eyes wide, Derek simply nodded. "I won't argue with that."

"Sometimes I get a bit… passionate about things," Stiles said. "Apparently true love in the movies is just one of those things."

"I like that about you — your passion for things. Let's watch it," Derek said, sitting down on the sofa and starting the movie.

"Thanks." Stiles took a seat, but then looked over at Derek and frowned. "I'm too far away from the popcorn."

Derek tossed a couple kernels into his mouth and chewed them before grinning at Stiles. "It's tasty, too. There's an easy solution for that, you know."

"Get another bowl?" Stiles asked grumpily. He'd just gotten situated, and the couch seemed to be a convergence of all things comfortable. He didn't want to leave it.

"Move closer to the popcorn," Derek corrected.

"That's so brilliant a solution it hadn't yet occurred to me." He could so get on board with that. Of course he needed to calm himself down, Derek was merely inviting him to share his popcorn not give him a lapdance, but Stiles would take what he could get. He scooted down the couch until he was sitting next to Derek, and helped himself to the popcorn.

They watched the movie in near silence for a while, their fingers bumping each other's occasionally when they both reached for popcorn at the same time. Stiles was having a difficult time concentrating. Between the insanely attractive man sitting next to him, and not to mention the two in the movie, it was very, very difficult. It was probably the second time Stiles whimpered, that Derek said, "Are you that sympathetic to her plight, or is it something else?"

"A bit of both," Stiles said. "Having to choose between Ryan Gosling and James Marsden? It's impossible! I mean, keep in mind, this is 2004 Ryan Gosling and James Marsden. God. I'd be torn, too!"

"Yes?" Derek asked, his grin stretched wide as he moved in a bit closer, his leg pressing against Stiles'. "Tell me more. Who would you choose, if you had to?"

Stiles heart beat double time and he was struck dumb for a moment at Derek's face being so close to his. He cleared his throat before asking, "If I were her, or just like, between the two of them based on looks?"

Putting the empty popcorn bowl on the coffee table, Derek turned to his side to give Stiles his full attention. "I know who you'd choose if you were her. You already pointed out you're a hopeless romantic. So, you being you, who would you choose?"

"James Marsden," Stiles said without further thought. "The dark hair and light eyes? It's a winning combo."

If possible, the smile Derek was wearing grew larger.

"I've got a thing for blue eyes," Stiles continued. "Well, or green eyes. Any color of eyes that aren't brown like mine, probably. They're boring."

"That's ridiculous. Your eyes aren't boring." Derek scowled. "That's quite literally the last word I'd use to describe your eyes."

Blinking, Stiles said, "What?"

"They're not boring," Derek said. "They're beautiful. And they're not even really brown, if it's the word that bothers you. They're like the color of caramel or brass or a light mahogany."

"Oh, um. Wow," Stiles said, his voice unusually high. "Thank you." Frustrated, as now he couldn't really turn around and compliment Derek's amazing technicolor eyes because it'd seem forced, he turned his attention back to the movie.

Derek was quiet for the rest of the movie, but so was Stiles. He'd shed a few tears, because people dying always did that to him, sue him, he had feelings. Figuring he probably shouldn't outstay his welcome, he stood to leave. "Thanks for the movie," he said, stretching. "And the popcorn."

Derek reached out, pulled Stiles into a slightly awkward one-armed hug, and squeezed gently before letting go. "Anytime. And thanks for being such a good sport about meeting Cora and Lydia. They're too much for some people."

"Nonsense." He patted his pockets for his keys and wallet. "See you Friday night for cake tasting, right?"

"Seven," Derek agreed. "Do you want me to drive again?"

"Sure, sounds good," Stiles said. "But if you don't let me drive one of these days, you're going to hurt my jeep's feelings."

"It's a car, Stiles. It has no feelings."

"Fine, fine. You're going to hurt _my_ feelings."

Derek frowned. "Then you drive Friday. Pick me up?"

Stiles grinned. "Plan on it."

***

"Oh my God," Stiles moaned, his breath labored. "Just one more, Derek. Come on, give it to me, _please_."

Pulling the tray of cake further away from Stiles, he said, "You've had enough cake. If you eat one more piece, we both know you're going to throw up, and I'm not having anything to do with that."

It took effort to sit up straight; Stiles had partially slumped over the bakery counter three or four mini slices of cake ago. "But I didn't get to try the lemon custard or lemon poppy seed or key lime," he wailed.

"Isaac hates citrus desserts," Derek said. "We've been over this."

"I know." He pouted. "But I don't."

"You've mentioned that." Derek added under his breath, "Three or four times."

His lower lip still protruding, Stiles said, "I knew I should’ve skipped dinner."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Derek said, "I bet they have cupcakes. We'll get some. Deal?"

"You know, you might be edging out Scott in the competition for best bro."

Derek looked a bit alarmed, and Stiles tried not to be offended at that.

"Always with the bros," Derek said, ringing the bell on the counter to let the salesperson who'd helped them know they were finished. "Don't worry, I'm not looking to take Scott's place."

After they were done discussing the details of the cake, of which there were many and varied, and Stiles couldn't believe a wedding cake cost more than what some people spent on their first cars, Derek settled the matter of payment. As the salesperson was ringing up the purchase, Derek said, "And we'd like a few of your lemon cupcakes, please, to go."

***

The next few months were busy with tux fittings, talk of decorations, choosing a caterer - neither Derek or Stiles were terribly impressed with the food provided at the venue, so they'd gone with an outside vendor. Admittedly, the taste testing was something Stiles was a pro at, and he had many varied opinions which he enjoyed sharing. Picking a photographer wasn't too bad, as really all they had to do was look at several online portfolios and choose the one they liked best. 

Choosing the flowers wasn't Stiles' high point of the whole wedding planning experience. He had nothing against flowers, but after the trauma that was discussing and smelling flowers for a straight week, he decided if he was forced to sniff another one, it’d be getting crushed under his foot. Flowers were flowers, damn it, but when he tried to tell Derek that, he’d been less than receptive to Stiles’ opinion, and offered him his tablet to play on for the rest of the appointment like one would do to a misbehaving child. 

The planning seemed to never end. Just when Stiles thought for certain they'd planned every conceivable thing necessary for the joining of two people in wedded bliss, Derek was back with something else.

When they weren't going someplace together to check something out, they were on the phone or texting, and it soon got to the point where a day didn't go by where Stiles didn't text or talk to Derek at least a couple times. Stiles couldn't seem to get enough of Derek's dry humor, and for some reason, Stiles had yet to find it, Derek never seemed to tire of his company.

Case in point, Stiles was lacing up his sneakers to go meet Derek for a run. It turned out they both liked to run on the path through the woods on the edge of Beacon Hills. Derek had been surprised the first time he'd bumped into Stiles out running - insultingly so, Stiles had pointed out. How else did Derek think he could eat anything he wanted without weighing three hundred pounds, really? Since then, they'd tried to meet up a couple times of week to run together, and it turned out they had more in common than just Isaac and Scott. 

Arriving at the start of the path, Stiles found Derek stretching. He tried not to drool, mostly because it was bad form to drool over someone who wasn’t into you the same way. Biting back an adoring sigh, he greeted Derek with a playful smile. "Hey, are we doing the full loop tonight?"

"We might as well," Derek answered somewhat grudgingly. " _Someone_ had to choose the slim-fit tux."

"And we look damn good in them, man!" Stiles said, with a little hip shimmy.

Derek's grin was lazy, and Stiles might have stared back at him just a few beats too long. "Yeah, we do."

***

Early the next morning, Stiles fumbled for his phone where it was buzzing madly on the bedside table, answering it with a sulky, "What?"

"Stiles," came Derek's voice, agitated. "Have you seen the news yet?"

"No. I was sleeping. Is the sun even up? What time is it? What's wrong?" Stiles rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up. "You sound upset."

"Because I am," Derek said. "The Wheelhouse? The venue for tomorrow night's wedding? There was a fire overnight. It's gone. Completely burnt to the ground."

Stiles sat straight up. "I thought that place looked shady," he mumbled, still trying to get his brain to work. "Fuck, Derek. What are we doing to do?" He could hear Derek moving around in the background, and he figured he was already working on a plan.

"I'd already planned on taking today off work," Derek said. "I knew there'd be last minute things I'd want to check on. I guess instead I'll be looking for a new venue."

"I'll call out," Stiles said. "They're always giving me a hard time about not taking any days off. Just give me a few minutes and I'll be good to go."

Derek breathed a relieved sigh. "Thanks. I'll be there in twenty with coffee and fritters."

"You're the best, man."

"Yeah," Derek said, a smile in his voice. "I knew you'd admit it eventually."

Groaning, Stiles said, "You tricked me with fritters. It doesn't count."

"Whatever."

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles said. "Get that gorgeous ass of yours over here. See you soon." It wasn't until after Stiles hung up that he realized what he’d said and shrugged. It was early, too early to think, and Derek was stressed. He'd probably missed it, anyway.

Thirty minutes later they were out on Stiles' back porch, eating breakfast and watching the sun rise. "I honestly have no idea what we're going to do," Derek said in between sips of coffee. "I mean, obviously, we're going to find a place to hold the wedding. I'm just not really getting any ideas at the moment."

"First off," Stiles began, "give the coffee a chance to work."

"And second?"

"I've not come up with a second yet."

Derek didn't look impressed.

"I'm kind of flying by the seat of my pants here. I've never been responsible for planning a wedding only to have everything dissolve into chaos the day before."

"I spoke with Patricia from The Wheelhouse on my way over. She assured me there'd be a full refund."

Tearing into a fritter viciously, Stiles said, "Oh that's just great. I'm sure it'll be really comforting to Scott and Isaac. They can sit on a big pile of money while getting married in a courtroom."

"She also let me know that everywhere in the surrounding area is booked this weekend, and basically through the remainder of the summer," Derek continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"So our first priority is finding a place for the wedding. I think I might have an idea, actually." He looked down at his phone and saw it was nearing 7:30am. "Scott's mom should be getting home from work at the hospital right now," he said.

Cocking his head to the side in confusion, Derek said, "Okay? Will she know of a place?"

"No, well I mean yes, Melissa has a good-sized back yard. And there's not like a stream running through it or anything, but it's pretty. It's surrounded by large trees — I think we could make it work."

Derek's eyes widened and he set his coffee down to pull his tablet out of his bag. "Okay," he said, sounding determined. "If you can get permission from Melissa, I'll start in on a list of what else we'll need."

Stiles didn't hesitate, and his conversation with Melissa was short and exactly how he figured it would go down. Stiles had a key to her house, had for years, and he was welcome to anything and everything he needed to make the wedding a success.

"Sounds like that was a resounding yes," Derek said, looking up from where he'd been typing, his fingers flying across the screen of his tablet. "I don't know about you, but I'm feeling really good we went with a different caterer instead of using theirs at the venue. I'll need to call them and have them head out to Melissa's today and make sure her kitchen will work for what they need it to."

"And as far as the flowers, alcohol, the cake, we'll just call and update those deliveries," Stiles added. "We can let the guests know about the new location on social media, and I'll call the DJ, and we'll get this done."

"We've got to figure out tables and chairs and dinnerware, silverware, glasses, decorations. Tablecloths? Candle holders?" He dropped his head to Stiles' deck table and groaned. "It's too early for this. How are you staying positive?"

Looking up from his fritter, where he'd just torn a huge hunk off with his teeth, Stiles grinned. "Sugar," he said around the bite of carb-filled goodness. "And caffeine. But mostly sugar."

Derek just stared. "That's really attractive."

"I know, right?" Stiles said when he'd finished chewing. "Don't worry about holding back, you know, if the tension gets to be too much."

Slanting an eyebrow, Derek said, "I'll definitely keep that in mind, thank you, if the urge grows too strong."

They spent the next few hours dividing up tasks, making phone calls, and taking the occasional break to freak the fuck out. It turned out the closest place they could find that had appropriate tables and chairs to rent was nearly two hours away and they weren't able to deliver.

"I can honestly say, when all the talk of wedding planning was going on, that I never saw this in our future," Derek said from the driver's seat of a huge U-Haul rental truck as they sped down the freeway.

Stiles, nibbling his way through a pack of red vines, grinned. "Yeah? Just what did you see in our future, then? I mean, after the house, white-picket fence, 2.5 kids, and a dog?"

Jaw tightening, Derek looked to be concentrating on the road as his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"Hey man, I was just teasing," Stiles said reassuringly when Derek was quiet.

"No, see? That's where I'm confused." Derek shook his head, and still staring resolutely at the road in front of him, he tried again. "It's always bros with you. Friends, pals, man, and then in the next breath you're flirting with me, telling me I've got a gorgeous ass or whatever."

A red vine was stuck hanging from Stiles' lip, and he stared, frozen, at Derek.

"I guess what I want to know — is that your personality? Are you just a chronic flirt?" Derek asked. "Or are you flirting with me, on purpose?" He cleared his throat. "With intent?"

There really wasn't a dignified way to peel a red vine from your lip, but there was no way Stiles was having this conversation with junk food stuck to any part of his anatomy. "I obviously suck at flirting, if you have to ask what my intentions are." Stiles laughed self-deprecatingly.

“Meaning?”

"I guess in moments where I forget myself, or when I'm feeling particularly… hopeful, yeah. I'm flirting." He steeled his nerve and went for it. "With intent."

Derek spared a quick glance over at Stiles. "You like me?"

"Cards on the table here?" Stiles asked, cringing slightly at the heat he could feel across his face.

"I'd prefer if we could speak openly and honestly about this, yes," Derek said. "I know right now probably isn't the best time as I quite literally have you trapped in a moving vehicle, but—"

"I like you," Stiles interrupted. "I like you a lot."

Brow furrowed, Derek asked, "Then why do you always make such an effort to friendzone me? You're always 'bro' this and 'bro' that."

Stiles went to speak, but found he didn't have an immediate answer. How did he explain the last few months of wanting Derek so very much, but thinking he was hopelessly out of reach?

It was after a minute or so of silence that Derek signaled and pulled off at the next exit, parking on the side of the road. He turned off the truck and moved so he was facing Stiles, waiting patiently for him to speak.

"I guess I just decided early on that you were unattainable," Stiles admitted, unable to look Derek in the face.

"Seriously?" Derek shook his head, obviously upset. "What?"

"You know," he began, gesturing with his hands out of frustration. "Out of my league, above me, too good for me." Stiles wondered if he looked as miserable as he felt, but he pushed on, needing to get the truth out. "Too mature, too sophisticated, too good looking, too—"

Suddenly Derek’s hand was covering Stiles’ mouth, and he waited until he had Stiles' undivided attention. "I know I've said it before, but it obviously bears repeating. You're ridiculous."

Stiles tried to say something but Derek didn't move his hand, so he licked it. It was childish, yes, but so was putting your hand over someone's mouth, so Stiles figured it was only fair.

His gaze darkened, but Derek kept his hand where it was. "No, hold up. Listen to me for a minute?"

Stiles nodded, so Derek dropped his hand."Did you really have to lick it?"

His eyebrows raised, Stiles pointed to his sealed lips and gave a sassy one-shouldered shrug.

"What I was trying to say," Derek began again, "is that you're completely out of touch with reality."

"If you're just going to insult me, I'm not going to listen," Stiles said, bringing his hands up to his ears.

"Oh my God, give me a minute. I didn't have a speech planned or anything." Derek scrubbed a hand over his face before trying again. "I like you, Stiles, a lot. I don't know what it is you see when you look in the mirror, or when you take stock of yourself, but let me tell you what _I_ see." He reached out and took one of Stiles' hands in his own. "I see a man who's loyal and brave, willing to do most anything to make the people he values happy."

Taking a deep breath, Stiles nodded. He could see that in himself, at least.

"I see a man who's intelligent, charming, hilarious, and kind. I see a man who anyone would be lucky to call a friend. And I see a man-" Derek swallowed and continued. "I see a man who clearly doesn't realize how attractive he is. Who doesn't know how much I watch him because I can't look away. Because I want to know more about him, everything about him, because I want to know _him_."

For possibly the first time in his life, Stiles was completely still, the words Derek said washing over him, until they rang true, and Stiles met Derek's gaze, unashamed, and unable to look away. "Derek, I—" he stopped, his voice shaky.

"Just a moment, please. I'm almost finished," Derek said, squeezing Stiles' hand. "I see a future with you in it, Stiles, and it makes me happy. I feel hopeful. I thought I was obvious in sending out signals, but maybe I wasn't."

Silent, Stiles' mouth was moving, trying to find words, but nothing was coming together for him. Eventually, he said, "So I might be a bit obtuse."

Derek grinned.

"You're such a smartass," Stiles said. "And I don't even know what to do with what you just said. You said you didn't have a speech planned, but I don't know what to say after that. No one's ever said anything like that to me before, and if you believe everything you just told me, I'm honored. I feel exceptionally lucky." He smiled down at their joined hands, and then looked up again, a sheepish grin on his face. "And it's going to make what I was going to say sound stupid in comparison."

"Enough with that," Derek said. "Just talk to me. I want to know what you're thinking. I don't care how it comes out. Just tell me, Stiles."

"I was going to say I don't want you for a bro."

"I guess that's a start?"

"You!" he said with a laugh. "Now it's your turn to let me finish. I told you what I don’t want. Now let me tell you what I do want. I want someone to wake up with every day, someone who listens when I have problems, and someone who trusts me with theirs. I want someone to eat dinner with and watch movies with and, hell, do dishes and laundry with. Someone who makes me want to be a better person, someone I can inspire in return. Someone who wants me as much as I want them. Someone who is as attracted to me as I am to them and wants nothing more than to spend hours and days getting to know each other's bodies and what each other likes, and then using that knowledge to drive each other absolutely fucking out of their minds." Stiles took a deep breath, his heart beating frantically, and he smiled a hopeful smile. "That's what I want. From you, if you didn't catch that part."

Stiles had hoped for some kind of response in the affirmative, but he hadn't even considered an answer that included Derek's lips pressing firmly down on his own. Soft, warm lips were moving along with his, and then there was Derek's tongue, wet and insistent, teasing at the seam of his mouth. He moaned without intending to and Derek took advantage, his tongue slipping easily past Stiles' teeth. And when their tongues met? Stiles would have sworn, under oath, that he saw stars.

Even though they were sitting down, Stiles gripped Derek’s shoulders tightly, dizzy with the sensations that were overwhelming him. Derek always smelled good, but up close Stiles couldn’t get enough. With each brush of Derek’s tongue against his own, he let out a whimper, and when stubble dragged roughly across his chin, Stiles groaned, lower and dirtier than one he thought himself capable.

Who knew how long the kiss might have lasted — Stiles would have loved to have found out, but at that precise moment, there came a sharp rapping on the driver's side window. "Oh, holy fuck," he said, panting from the kiss as he looked over Derek's shoulder. "It's a cop. You should probably um, turn around and deal with that. We can't go to jail, remember? We have things to do still."

Stiles thought it was completely adorable that even Derek's neck turned red when he blushed, and he busied himself finding the truck's registration papers while Derek fished out his license after the police officer asked to see it.

"I'm glad there's no trouble," the officer said, after taking Derek's license back to his patrol car and running it through the system. "And while I do appreciate you pulling off to the side of the road to have an important conversation, maybe in the future you could save conversations like this for home."

"Yes, sir," Derek answered. After rolling the window back up, he turned to Stiles, his face still bright red. "Stop looking so smug! It's not like you weren't here with me!"

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, humming happily.

***

The morning of the wedding dawned clear and beautiful, not a cloud in the sky, which was a good thing, as Derek and Stiles had too much to accomplish before they could even think about getting themselves ready. Luckily the sheriff and a few others had shown up to help, and before long, Melissa's back yard was starting to take shape.

Once the tables and chairs were set up, --Stiles had no idea it was possible to have that many opinions as to how and where tables and chairs should be set up, thank you, Hale siblings-- they started in on the decorations. And that's when the true hell began. Stiles didn't understand how stores had the nerve to sell brand-new tablecloths with wrinkles in them, and guess who'd ended up on ironing duty?

"Stiles, if you complain once more, I'm grounding you," the sheriff called from where he was helping the men who'd arrived to set up the dance floor and the accompanying canopy over it.

"You can't ground me, I'm twenty-three and I don't live with you," Stiles replied, swearing as he nearly burnt his finger again on the iron.

Coming up behind Stiles, Derek gently took the iron from his hand. "Why don't I iron?" He leaned further in towards Stiles and murmured in his ear, his breath warm on the back of his neck, "I want your fingers unscathed for later."

Not even pretending to hide his shiver, Stiles grinned up at Derek. "I'll just go, uh. Put these on the tables after you iron them. Yeah."

Derek made short work of ironing twenty tablecloths, but Stiles supposed someone who wore dress shirts to work every day probably had serious ironing skills. After the tables were dressed, Cora and Lydia worked their magic: the centerpieces were placed, candles arranged, lights were strung. Stiles had to admit, the crisp green of the grass was a stunning backdrop to the black and gold accents, and he smiled as he surveyed their work.

There was delivery after delivery, and luckily Melissa's skills in the ER came in handy as she was a pro at prioritizing and organizing. Under her care, the bar outside had been arranged, glasses made ready, and she'd set up the caterers in her kitchen. The cake had been delivered and was sitting prettily on her dining room table; it would be brought out to its special stand in the yard a bit later.

It was mid afternoon by the time the last thing had been checked off the massively long to-do list. Melissa found Stiles, recognizing his signature-sneakered feet sticking out from underneath the table where he'd fallen asleep. He woke to the sound of her laughing, and an ache in his arms from the way he'd had them folded beneath his head.

"I can't believe he fell asleep like that," Stiles heard Derek say.

"Oh, this is nothing," Melissa said. "Scott said he fell asleep on the rollercoaster at Seven Peaks once. At least he picked a shady spot this time. I'll leave him to you."

Derek crawled under the table, letting the tablecloth fall behind him as he saw Stiles smiling at him sleepily. He settled on his side, facing Stiles, and propped himself up on his elbow.

"I'll have you know, I hadn't slept in thirty-six hours when I fell asleep on the rollercoaster," Stiles said, mirroring Derek's position so that they were facing each other.

"And today?" Derek asked.

"I was hiding, I admit it. Cora said something about napkins needing to be ironed and I panicked," Stiles admitted, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. "Is it over yet?"

"The set up is. Now we need to go get ready for the actual wedding part," he said. "And I've been meaning to ask you. Will you be my date?"

"Nothing like waiting till the last minute." He pulled on Derek's arm until he was lying flat on his back, and then moved to rest his head on Derek's chest. "But it's still a yes, a Hell Yes. A huge check marked in the 'yes' box yes. And now I'm super comfortable. Maybe we should just stay here for the wedding."

Derek moved his arm that wasn't wrapped around Stiles up underneath his head as a pillow. "I'm comfortable too, but I think Isaac and Scott would find new best friends if we spent the entirety of their wedding beneath a table in our gym shorts and sweaty t-shirts." At Stiles' grunt, he added, "But I could be wrong."

"Scotty's very forgiving," Stiles said against Derek's chest. "He'd forgive me by the time they were cutting the cake."

"I'm glad Scott's the Mother Teresa of friends, but Isaac isn't. So, come on, up with you," Derek urged, kissing the top of Stiles' head as more mumbling came from Stiles. "What was that?"

"I said I have no incentive to move when your lips are on any part of my body," Stiles repeated more clearly.

Chuckling softly, Derek sat up and pulled Stiles along with him. "I promise to put my lips wherever you want them, as long as the place we're at is reasonably private."

Stiles opened his eyes immediately. "Dude, you probably should have just led with that."

Derek had been leaning in for a kiss, but he stopped a few inches short. "Do me a favor? No more 'dudes' or 'bros,' okay? It makes me feel like I'm about to kiss a teammate or something."

"How about bud? Buddy? Big guy? Can I still call you those and get some loving?"

"God help me," Derek said, pressing his forehead against Stiles. "You're impossible, aren't you?"

Pulling back so he could see Derek's eyes, Stiles smiled and said, "You're just figuring this out now?"

Luckily, Stiles wasn't expecting an answer, because Derek wouldn't have been able to give one, not with the way his mouth was busy, kissing Stiles into silence.

***

The wedding was beautiful, and it went off without a hitch. Perhaps the universe felt it'd messed with the Lahey-McCall nuptials enough, with their venue burning to the ground two days before the ceremony. Whatever it was, it was everything Stiles never even knew he wanted in a wedding, although he still felt that the four-piece string section was a bit much.

The important part was that Scott and Isaac were happy, there'd been many tears of joy shed, and neither Stiles or Derek had lost best bro status.

After the newly-married couple had left for the airport and their honeymoon, and the guests had all gone home, it was just Stiles and Derek left standing in Melissa's back yard. "I cannot believe we pulled that off," Derek said, placing his hands on Stiles' hips. He kissed him softly, and then nuzzled down his neck before saying, "And I know I mentioned it when I picked you up earlier, but I hope you'll find many more reasons to wear this tux, because you look amazing in it."

"Well, you'd know," Stiles said, grinning, as he took a step closer to Derek, bringing their bodies together. "I hear there are like, fifty pictures on your phone."

Derek chuckled, a low throaty sound. "At least."

"I'd like the opportunity to do the same," Stiles murmured. "Because while I will never forget the glory that is you in a tux, I wouldn't mind photographic evidence."

"I wouldn't deprive you of that," Derek said. "Consider it done."

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck and rested his head on his shoulder. "I'm exhausted, but before we come back here first thing in the morning to take everything down, I think you should take me home, and we should see where things go." After a moment of silence, he added, "In my bedroom, if the earlier statement was too ambiguous."

"Thanks for clearing that up," Derek said, pulling back so he could look Stiles in the eyes. "Race you to the car?"

***

Later that year…

"I can't believe you have a bag of fritters under your shirt," Derek hissed at Stiles as they waited in line for their coffees at The Coffee Shop. The bulge under his shirt was attracting way more attention than if Stiles had just held the bag in his hand.

"If they sold the best apple fritters in town, I wouldn't have to take such drastic measures," Stiles hissed right back. "It's rude of them, really. If they're going to make such an effort to insist people don't bring in outside food, they should serve the best."

The barista calling their names cut off any reply Derek might have given, and instead he grabbed their coffees and led Stiles to what had quickly become their table, the one nestled over by the fireplace.  
  
"Why'd we have to come inside, anyway?" Stiles said grumpily, pulling the bag of fritters out from under his shirt. "It's cold outside, and I think it might actually snow. We should have just gotten our coffees to go."

Derek pulled his tablet from his bag and leveled Stiles with a stare. "It's what we do," he said. "I'm declaring this our official first meeting spot when planning weddings for our friends. Besides, my mother and Laura will be here in a few minutes, as well as Cora and Lydia."

"I'm glad they're taking a more hands-on approach to their wedding than Scott and Isaac did. I just wish it weren't so early."

"You don't get to pout; it was your idea."

"Well, I didn't know it'd be so cold this morning!"

"Shut up and read your cup," Derek said, the tone of his voice taking any sting out of his words. "All I got was my name and a smiley face."

Turning his cup until he could see the black-sharpie'd message, he read, " _You two make a cute couple. Even when you're arguing about illicit baked goods - Sean_." Stiles looked up at Derek, his smile bright. "We do, don't we?"

The answering smile on Derek's face was fond, and he reached across the table for Stiles' hand. "We really do."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to yodasyoyo, LupusScintilla (inkandblade), and Mynuet for being Team Grimmypuff!
> 
> Original prompt: 'Stiles and Derek are the respective best friends of newly-engaged Scott and Isaac. Commence a montage of them having to pull off the 'best goddamned wedding ever', whilst simultaneously falling in love.'
> 
> Thank you, honeymoonmuke, for such wonderful, creative prompts. I wanted to write them all - it was a joy writing for you.
> 
> This fic was written as part of the [Sterek Exchange 2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SterekExchange2017).


End file.
